Hands All Over
by TinyTimTurner
Summary: "It's senior year. We gotta live a little. You know? So we're gonna take these shots back to back and we're gonna get messed up. Because it's a party and Karofsky's a douche and that's what you do at a party. So are you in or are you out?"  Puck/Blaine


**Title:**Hands All Over

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but a lustful imagination and an empty Starbucks cup.

**Rating:**R

**Pairing:**Puck/Blaine

**Word Count:**7275

**Summary: ****"**It's senior year. We gotta live a little. You know? So we're gonna take these shots back to back and we're gonna get messed up. Because it's a party and Karofsky's a douche and that's what you do at a party. So are you in or are you out?"

**Author's Notes: **This is a Blaine/Puck fic that I've been working on. I fell in love with this pairing thanks to _Preferthemoss_ and _xsaturated_ on LiveJournal. So I blame them for the lengthy hours I've spent working on this :) For the sake of this fic, we're going to pretend that its senior year and Blaine and Kurt have both transferred over from Dalton. Hope you guys enjoy.

* * *

"Do you ever slow down?"

Puck languidly swings his gaze from the tequila bottle he is about to take a swig out of to the boy standing next to him looking hot as all hell. (Puck's secure enough in his sexuality to make that assessment.) Blaine's head is cocked at an angle, an amused smile playing upon his lips as his gaze shifts from the golden liquor in Puck's hand to the _Can I help you?_look on Puck's face.

"Do not fucking judge me Anderson," Puck says defensively, pointing the Jose Cuervo at Blaine in warning. "It's a party. And if you think I'm going to hang out at the same party as that puck head _and_stay sober," he continues, now directing the bottle in hand through the glass backdoor at Karofsky, who is outside in a chugging contest with Finn and Sam. "Then you're more fucked up than me. And that's saying something."

Blaine looks over at Dave and Puck feels like mentally kicking himself as he observes the smaller boy's casual smile dim ever so slightly as his eyes linger on the burly football player. But then Blaine shifts his attention back to Puck, flashing him that movie star grin, and Puck has to wonder if he had actually seen sadness in the other boy's eyes at all. Before he has a chance to think about it too much, the former warbler is speaking again.

"I don't think he's all that bad," Blaine says thoughtfully. "Ever since he came out of the closet and joined Glee Club-"

"And stole Kurt away from you," Puck adds, instantly regretting his words as Blaine visibly tenses at the seven syllables carelessly thrown past Puck's lips.

Puck knows Kurt is still a sore subject for him and he feels like an asshole for bringing it up. He knows better than to make a dick move like that; especially with him. Over the past couple of months, he'd grown closer to the Dalton transfer than he had with people he'd known for years. Ever since Puck had helped Blaine clean up after a particularly vicious slushy attack of cold blue sugar and ice, things had changed. Puck could remember Blaine laughing, saying something about being happy that he had at least gotten hit with his favorite flavor, but Puck hadn't been paying attention. Not really. He had been too distracted by a single cerulean drop lazily trailing down the slope of Blaine's neck and disappearing into the collar of his shirt. And in that moment, Puck smiled because it hit him that blueberry had always been his favorite flavor too.

After that day, the two boys had become an unusual pair. It didn't make much sense to anyone else, but Puck had never really cared about what other people thought about him. If he wanted to do something, he was going to do it and be badass while doing it. Same rules applied when it came to getting to know Blaine. Puck found that the Dalton transfer was nowhere near as lame as he had originally thought. Blaine is actually an okay guy and the last thing Puck wants to do is be a jerk to someone he considers a friend. So, even though the thought of an apology coming out of his mouth puts an acidic taste in the back of his throat, the twisting pit in Puck's stomach is telling him that he needs to suck it up.

"Sorry," Puck mumbles, his eyes shifting to the ground like he does whenever his mom is giving him that look that says she isn't mad but she sure as hell is disappointed – which everyone knows is ten million times worse.

"Its fine," Blaine says quietly, offering the other boy a sort of crooked half-smile when Puck lifts his gaze to meet his own, the gesture somehow not quite reaching his eyes.

"I think Dave has actually been pretty decent. He gets along with everyone," Blaine continues on, until Puck's resounding scoff forces him to amend his comment. "_Mostly_everyone. And he treats Kurt with respect and loves him the way he deserves. He's part of the group now. Otherwise, I don't think Santana would have invited him here to her house."

Puck shakes his head, letting out a hollow laugh as he uncaps the bottle and searches for the shot glasses that he knows Santana has hidden away somewhere because he had been with her when she'd bought them. "He has the fake id Anderson. Of course she invited him."

"After everything that happened with Kurt?" Blaine asks in a voice that conveys nothing but disbelief. "I highly doubt it."

Pausing his search, Puck turns to Blaine and says, "You can cut the bullshit Dude."

"Excuse me?"

Puck shrugs in response before elaborating, "The loser stole your boyfriend."

"He did not-" Blaine says before being cut off by Puck.

"_Yeah_. He did. I would know," Puck says, pointing to himself before continuing candidly. "I steal other guys' girlfriends all the time. I mean it's only for sex, which I'm kinda awesome at and I never really get any complaints..."

Blaine sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as though some sort of migraine is coming on that he is trying to push away. "Could you please spare me the details of your sex life?"

"Why?" Puck shoots back, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at the smaller boy. "Jealous?"

"Of you?" Blaine fights the sudden urge to laugh. The sound of it getting muffled somewhere in his throat as he coughs behind his hand to try and hide it. "Hardly. I don't play for your team, remember?"

"Insignificant detail," Puck volleys back, his eyes slowly trailing over the length of Blaine's body in a way that he had used on so many of his conquests.

Not that Blaine is his next one or anything like that. But the fact that Blaine is basically saying that he's the one thing Puck can never have? Yeah. That was a bad move on Anderson's part because _no one_ tells Puck what he can and can't have. So even though Blaine's gay and Puck's straight (because that one time with Finn, when they were 14, doesn't count), Puck is setting up the playing field for what he knows will be an interesting night. And if Blaine goes with it, which is an idea that hasn't escaped Puck's line of thought as he shamelessly flirts with the cardigan clad teenager, Puck's not sure if he'll have won the challenge or just created a mess. Knowing his track record all too well, it was probably going to be a mixture.

It's not like flirting with Blaine was something that Puck had _intended_on doing, but he kind of likes the subtle blush coloring the other boy's cheeks and the way Blaine keeps avoiding his eyes. It just kind of adds fuel to his fire. So when Puck moves a little bit closer into Blaine's personal space, he doesn't dwell on his action. He merely chalks it up to the alcohol pumping through his system, the liquid warmth pooling in his center. It's too damn early in the night to think about serious things, especially when they involved feelings that Puck isn't sure he wants to admit to himself just yet.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Blaine drops his gaze to his shoes, finding them abruptly fascinating. He can feel the familiar heat of the flush coloring up his neck with every second that went by with Puck's eyes still on him – pushing at his skin with an intensity that Blaine isn't sure he is comfortable with. Quickly, he reaches his hand up to the back of his neck to cover the warmth that he is sure Puck has already noticed.

"Something wrong?" Puck muses aloud, faux innocence dripping from his voice.

Blaine lifts his gaze back to Puck's face, their eyes locking, before saying, "You're so full of yourself. It's unbelievable."

"Bet you wish you could be full of me," Puck shoots back quickly, a sleazy grin dancing across the expanse of his lips.

"Really?" Blaine can feel his eyebrow rise into a perfect arch as he set a hand against the counter to balance himself. "Puck, how do you even think that's remotely attractive?"

Puck gives half a shrug as though it were obvious. "Because I'm a stud."

"Says who?"

"Everyone."

"Right," Blaine says, shaking his head as the sarcasm laces through his voice. "I forgot the universe took time out of its busy schedule to comment you on your physical appearance. How silly of me."

"You know," Puck says slowly, as he pointedly ignores Blaine's backwards diss. "If you wanted to…" His voice trails off as his eyes scan around the kitchen before taking a step closer to the other boy, his hand resting against the edge of the counter just barely an inch away from Blaine's. "If you wanted, we could make Hummel jealous."

Blaine just stares at Puck in shock, his lips parting to form a surprised 'oh'. The golden irises of Blaine's eyes seem to search Puck's face as though he is trying to figure out whether or not Puck is actually serious and what that means for the two of them. Then his eyes move to their hands and how Puck's fingertips are now just barely skimming his own. The contact is Puck's small way of pushing the envelope as he waits for Blaine's answer.

Silently, the football player watches with an entertained fascination as emotion after emotion play across Blaine's features like a drive-in movie screen and Puck almost laughs when Blaine makes his decision, because it is so predictable.

"No thanks."

"You're right," Puck says with a mocking lilt, removing his hand from Blaine's and shoving it in his pocket. "You might get attached."

"You're really incorrigible, aren't you?" Blaine asks, a hint of a real smile beginning to form as Puck just shrugs in response. "Anyways, since when do you care about my relationship status?"

"I don't," Puck responds quickly.

Blaine nods, not quite believing him. "That's not the way you're acting."

"And how exactly am I _acting_Anderson? Like I give a fuck?" The question is out before Puck has even realized he's spoken and, for some reason, even though he knows he shouldn't really care what Blaine thinks about him or his actions, he wishes he'd kept his mouth shut.

"Well…" Blaine seems almost hesitant in his answer. The usual air of confidence that he carried around with him is disappearing quickly like it is being sucked into some invisible vacuum that Blaine is unaware of. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

Puck sighs, running a hand through his Mohawk as he tries to pick out his words carefully. "Look, all I'm saying is that I'd be pissed off if I were you. Puckhead stole your girl and-"

A pointed look from the shorter boy caused Puck to lamely defend himself with a, "Well he might as well be one."

"Puck." The warning tone in Blaine's voice as he says Puck's name is enough to make Puck amend his words.

"Fine. Kurt's a dude. Whatever. The point is that he's not yours anymore and its killing you. I can tell. I mean you basically switched schools just so you could be with him and then he left you for the guy who basically made his life a living hell. You can't make this stuff up. Plus, the way you keep sending your dopey ass looks over at Kurt during rehearsals kinda remind me of those crazy stalker eyes Ms. Pillsbury gets when she looks at Mr. Schue. You're kinda obvious Dude. Just sayin'."

Not waiting for Blaine's response, Puck turns back to his search. Finally, his hands came upon some I Love Lucy shot glasses. Putting one in front of himself, about to pour the Jose Cuervo into it, he looks back over at Blaine and grins as an idea pops into his head. Grabbing another shot glass he began to pour the golden brown liquor into both shots. Then, as though it were an afterthought, Puck pulls out six more shot glasses from the cabinet and throws them down on the counter top, filling them up sloppily one by one.

"What are you doing?"

Puck just laughs at the shock in the other boy's voice before saying, "We're not pussies Anderson. It's senior year. We gotta live a little. You know? So we're gonna take these shots back to back and we're gonna get messed up. Because it's a party and Karofsky's a douche and that's what you do at a party. So are you in or are you out?"

"I've already been drinking…"

"So?"

"So my goal is to be somewhat classy this evening."

"Screw classy."

Looking at Puck thoughtfully for a moment, Blaine then asks, "You're going to ruin my life tonight, aren't you?"

Puck just grinned in response before saying, "You bet."

Blaine's ensuing sigh is more than enough of a concession for Puck.

"Let's fucking do this Anderson!" He exclaims, offering the first shot to the latest member of New Directions. "There's no reason for you not to be as drunk as me."

Hearing a fit of laughter that had once sounded musical in his ears, Blaine looks into the living room and lets his eyes take in the lithe form of Kurt moving to the beat of the music pulsating through the house. He watches the boy dance suggestively with Mercedes and Brittany, his mind whirring with memories of Kurt half naked beneath him, Kurt panting his name as they….

"Earth to Anderson."

At those words, Blaine allows his gaze to be drawn back to Puck and the small glasses being offered to him. If Kurt can have a good time and not feel awkward then there is nothing keeping Blaine back from doing the same. He deserves this. One night where he doesn't have to think. One night where he doesn't have to wonder what went wrong.

Making a decision, Blaine takes a tentative step towards Puck and says, "I'm in."

Pushing his shoulders back and straightening up, Blaine grabs the proffered drink and chugs it down in one swoop and follows suit with the rest, licking the lingering bitter taste from his lips. Slamming the last glass down, he gives Puck a look that says _Now what?_

Puck's grin widens before taking his own shots and then claps a heavy hand onto Blaine's shoulder with a "we need something stronger" being mentioned before he begins to search through the bottles that littered the countertop.

"Bring it on," Blaine challenges playfully, a brilliant display of a smile capturing Puck's attention momentarily after he grabs a bottle of Bacardi 151 and turns around to face him. Then Blaine dissolves into giggles and Puck is pretty sure that it's because Blaine responded to his own challenge with an "It's already been brought" but he isn't really paying attention so he lets it go.

Grabbing the bottle from Puck, Blaine skims over the contents and Puck can't help but laugh when Blaine's eyebrows shoot straight up as he reads over the fact that the drink in hand is 75.5% proof alcohol. Handing the bottle back to the football player, Blaine unbuttons his baby blue cardigan, Puck watching with a sidelong glance as every button comes free from restraint. Blaine is saying something about not getting sloppy and spilling liquor on his new clothes but Puck is too focused on the way Blaine is slowly pulling off the cardigan and he wonders if Blaine is aware of how very stripper-like his actions are.

As Blaine looks around them for a suitable place to put it down, he notices that almost every counter is filled with cups and bottles which leaves him unsure of where to leave it.

"Oh for Christ's sake," Puck grumbles, snatching the damn thing away from him. "It's just a crappy sweater Anderson, not the crown jewels of England."

"Cardigan," Blaine corrects automatically.

Puck just rolls his eyes mumbling something along the lines of Blaine being worse than Hummel. Putting the Bacardi down, he tucks the cardigan under his arm, and says, "We should get more people in here. What's a party without a crowd?"

Blaine just shrugs in response.

Shaking his head at the obvious newbie status Blaine wore on his forehead when it came to parties, Puck walks over to the patio door, throws it open and yells out, "Hudson and geek squad, we're gonna take shots. Let's move!"

Immediately, an echo of shots reverberates outside of the house and finds its way inside as half of the glee club crams themselves into the kitchen to take shots with him and Blaine.

"What are we taking shots of?" Mike asks, one arm slung over Tina's shoulders.

By way of answer, Blaine grabs the bottle of Bacardi and thrusts it into the air which erupts into whoops and cheers of approval from the small crowd around him. Blaine isn't sure what it is, but between the music beating through the house like a drum keeping time with his heart and the liquid heat that is slowly spreading through him, Blaine is starting to feel _good_. It could be due to the fact that he had taken three shots of vodka with Kurt prior to arriving at the party and he'd just taken four back to back shots of tequila with Puck.

Then again, Blaine loved being the center of attention. He always had.

"Oh hell no!" Santana voices rises above the rest as she pushes her way through to Blaine. Once at her destination, she looks from Blaine to the bottle still in the air and then back at the former Warbler before letting a mischievous smirk flicker across her lips. "I know you're not trying to take shots without me Elton."

"He's so old," Blaine says with a frown.

Santana shrugs. "He's totally fruity and he sings. What do you want from me?"

"There are plenty of famous gay men that fit that criteria," Blaine shoots back with a smile. "Like… Neil Patrick Harris! Can't I be NPH? He's young and cute and funny. Did I mention cute? Cause he definitely is and-"

"Fine," Santana says quickly, cutting him off from his ramble. "I approve of his cute to homo ratio. But he plays a womanizer on TV, so come with me because I think it's about damn time for you to man up."

Puck watches from the sidelines as Santana grabs a more than amused looking Blaine by his shirt, dragging him to the dining table. Then, in a quick series of moves, she lets go of Blaine, mounts the table, and lies on her back with her top raised so that it stops just below her breasts. Without missing a beat, she says, "Puck, hand me that fluffy sweater you're holding. I wants a pillow and I wants it now."

With a roll of his eyes, the self-proclaimed badass places the cardigan underneath Santana's head and whispers in her ear, "Take it easy on him." Puck let his eyes wander back over to Blaine for a few moments, his stomach doing a weird flip as Blaine licks his lips unconsciously. "Anderson's not used to the likes of you."

"Hey!" Blaine cries in faux outrage. "I can handle myself just fine thank you very much."

Santana just smiles wickedly as she says, "You heard him Puckerman. The man can handle himself."

Puck shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Before Blaine can ask what Puck is talking about, Santana's demanding his attention, a shot glass on her stomach with a line of salt running along beside it from her navel to the edge of her top like a line of coke and a lime wedge between her lips as she yells out a muffled, "Let's do this!"

Taking a deep breath, Blaine braces himself against the edge of the table and looked up at the ceiling before bending over to lick the salt from her stomach. However, before his tongue has the chance to skim the surface of her skin, Santana snatches the lime from her mouth and asks, "What the hell are you doing Prep School?"

Blaine looks over at Puck who only gives him a look that says _I told you so_, before looking back at Santana. "What?"

"Are you fucking amateur Anderson?" Santana asks him like he is dumber than a bag of rocks. "Get up here. That's not the way I do shots."

Blaine just stares at her, unsure of what she is actually saying. His head abruptly feels a little loose on his neck. And the pulse of the music is beginning to rock through his body like waves crashing the shore at his grandfather's beach house.

"Frodo, I'm not gonna tell you again," Santana bites out impatiently. "Get your ass on top of me and let's do this already!"

A chorus of "Do it! Do it! Do it!" springs up around him from Sam, Finn, and Mike. Karofsky asks somebody where Kurt is and Tina laughs about something. What she finds so funny, Blaine is unsure of but he does know that it isn't going to be him. So with less than sober footing, Blaine finds himself on top of the table, on hands and knees, hovering over an unquestionably ecstatic Santana Lopez.

Blaine felt Puck's hand on his bicep before he actually hears him and the grip that the other teen has on his arm is firm. Blaine's head is swimming. The grasp on his arm is like an anchoring holding him to this moment; to this night. It feels good. He wants more of it. Santana's voice drifts through the haze. He has something to do. Something he needs to do.

"Anderson, you look nuts man." Puck. His voice. Again. "Come on. You don't have to do this."

"Yes I do," Blaine shoots back, his mouth feeling foreign around the words he is saying. Pulling his arm free from Puck he smiles down at Santana before saying, "I definitely do."

Puck witnesses in awed silence as Blaine licks a sensuous line across Santana's skin; his tongue running the length of the salt. Then Blaine takes the shot between his lips, knocks it back like a fucking professional and sets the glass back on the table before pulling Santana up by the back of the neck and biting into the lime, juice splashing across both their lips. As Blaine slowly pulls back and rests back on his knees, he wipes away the excess liquid with his forefinger; his gaze meets Puck's as he puts his finger in his mouth and sucks it off. Whether Puck's eyes go dark at the sight or if it is just his imagination is a riddle Blaine isn't sure he wants solved.

"So you're not a goody two shoes?" Santana asks, distracting Blaine from his thoughts as she sits up and readjusts herself. Leaning in close to his ear, she whispers, "Me gusta."

"Blaine?"

Blaine looks away from the retreating form of the Latina and focuses his sight on Kurt, who's standing by the counter with his mouth agape and his hand firmly encased in the hand of one Dave Karofsky. Blaine wants to say something, wants to come up with something witty to say, but all he can do is stare at the two hands that are holding each other, fingers interlaced as Karofsky's thumb rubs tentative circles on the back of Kurt's hand.

Noticing what Blaine is looking at, Puck quickly steps up and centers himself directly in front of Blaine, who is still sitting on the edge of the table, looking at the newly formed couple that Rachel and Quinn had dubbed Kurtofsky. That only served to trigger Puck's gag reflex. It's like no one remembers what a douche the guy had been. _Ridiculous_.

"Dude," Puck says quietly, trying to reign in Blaine's attention to no avail. "Blaine."

The name slips past Puck's lips and he can't help but smile at how natural it feels for him to say it, like he's been meant to say it this whole time. And when Blaine locks eyes with him, Puck instinctively reaches for one of Blaine's hands, not caring about how it looks to everyone else.

"Ignore them, okay?"

"What?"

"Ignore them," Puck repeats patiently. "Just look at me. Focus on me. Got it?"

Time stretches out for what seemed like too long as Blaine stares at him, perplexed, his eyes subtly shift as they take in every detail of Puck's face. He is searching for some kind of answer to a question that Puck isn't sure he's even been asked and that makes him more nervous than anything else. And when Blaine finally nods, Puck lets out a breath that he hadn't even known he's been holding.

"Aww!" The two boys hear Brittany giggle off to the side of them. "Are you guys gonna kiss?"

Blaine just smiles in response and pats Puck patronizingly on the chest. "He wishes."

"Don't we all," Tina mutters under her breath, interestingly, not to Mike's surprise.

"Now there's an idea," Santana says, a wicked smile on full display upon her ruby lips. "Puckerman and Anderson getting their mack on? Me gusta." Quickly, the Latina makes her way over to the two boys and hands Blaine a lime wedge before saying, "The two of you can be the next pairing. And this time, we're changing the rules."

Puck narrows his eyes at the girl, his voice low as he asks, "How?"

Instead of answering, Santana just pushes Blaine onto his back and rearranges him so that the length of his body covered the length of the table. She takes the lime wedge from his hand and she squeezes it over Blaine's closed lips and then grabs the salt – telling Blaine to stay still – and pours a solid line down the stretch of his bare throat, the sight makes Puck's tongue dart across his own lips unconsciously.

Finally, Santana pours a shot of Bacardi and hands it to Puck with a wink.

"The rules are simple," she says loudly, making sure everyone can hear her. "You basically do the exact same thing except," she pauses dramatically, causing Puck to smirk at Blaine's subtle roll of his eyes. "This time you're going to lick your way to Anderson's pretty lips and give him a kiss that no one's ever gonna forget." Stepping up to Puck, she places her hands on his shoulders and whispers into his ear, "Are you ready?"

"Hey," Finn says before Puck can answer. "That's kind of a little…"

"Hot?" Tina supplies.

Finn shoots her a surprised and confused look as he says, "No… I was thinking more along the lines of awkward. Puck's not even, you know, like that."

With a sigh, Santana whips around to face off against the quarterback. "And that's exactly why it makes the game interesting Frankenteen. Get with the program."

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" Puck asks with a shake of his head as Santana reams into Finn about gay rights and other things that have nothing to do with the situation, his heart somehow starts to beat faster from within his throat.

Blaine just turns one of his hands and gives Puck the thumbs up signal.

Closing his eyes, Puck nods – more to himself than anyone else. Then, before he has time to change his mind, he throws back the shot and climbs on top of the table, bracing his arms on either side of Blaine so that he hovers over the shorter boy's body, their faces barely inches apart. Without a second to lose, Puck bends his head down and licks a hungry trail across the expanse of Blaine's tanned flesh, pausing only momentarily when he is finished and sees Blaine's lips part in a small pleasured 'O'. The sight was enough to cause Puck to emit a small groan before crashing his lips into Blaine's.

The citrus flavor runs along the edges of their lips as Puck places a hand on the back of Blaine's neck and pulls him deeper into their kiss. Without thinking about it, Puck opens his mouth a little more and presses his tongue to Blaine's heated lips, begging for entrance. Hesitantly, Blaine obliges and parts his lips, which is all the permission Puck needs to begin massaging Blaine's tongue with his own in a way that makes Blaine reach a hand up caress the back of Puck's mohawk. It's getting hot in the room and Puck's head is beginning to spin but Blaine's mouth keeps him anchored to this spot, this moment, and Puck can't imagine wanting anything more.

An uncomfortable cough breaks their moment like a popping balloon. Puck slowly pulls away from Blaine, his eyes never leaving the other boy's, and he knows he is screwed. There is no way he'll be able to go back to just being friends. Not unless there are benefits involved. Not after that. Not after seeing the way Blaine's lips are swollen or the way he is breathing so hard. There is just no way.

"I'm sorry," Blaine says suddenly, breaking the silent tension filling the room. "Excuse me."

And just like that, Blaine is off the table and out of the room before Puck can even blink.

"Way to go Puckerman," Santana applauds from beside Brittany. "Looks like you rocked his world."

"God Santana, give it a fucking rest, alright?" Puck snaps as he hops off the table and heads straight for the fridge. He needs a beer and he needed it yesterday.

"Dude, what's up with you?"

Puck doesn't even bother to turn around to see who is following him. He doesn't have to. He's been best buds with Finn his whole life. He'd know that voice anywhere. "What are you talking about?"

"Besides the fact that you just made out with another guy?" Finn offered, his voice still sharp with shock. "Not much."

"Man, whatever." Puck rolls his eyes as he searches through the fridge for a bitch beer to wash down the burn in his throat and to mentally remind himself that Puckzilla does not get hot and bothered over guys. Let alone guys that were practically his best friend's ex-brother-in-law or some shit like that. "It is just a dare. Calm down."

"You sure about that?"

Puck could hear the concern stretching across the sound of Finn's words as he twists the cap off of a green apple Smirnoff and he barely holds himself back from rolling his eyes again. He knows the freakishly tall teen is only trying to make sure that he's okay because it's what Finn has always done, ever since they were kids. That's why Finn was the golden boy of Lima, Ohio. He is a people pleaser and, sometimes, Puck wonders whether or not that will be his best friend's downfall.

"Yeah," Puck says. "Everything's fine."

Finn stared at Puck contemplatively as though he's trying to decide whether or not to believe him. After a few awkward beats, he flashes Puck his golden boy smile and punches him in the arm. Neither of them enjoys talking about their feelings. It's just too weird. However, it went unsaid that if they ever needed to, the other was available. It was an unspoken promise but a promise nonetheless.

"So how're you and Rachel?" Puck asks, trying to shift the conversation from himself onto his best friend. "You guys getting on each other's nerves yet?"

Finn's gaze shifts towards the opposite side of the room as he takes a drink of his own beer. "Actually, we're doing really good."

Puck follows his friend's gaze and isn't surprised when it lands on Rachel. He doesn't have the heart to tell Finn about how he'd screwed her for the better part of the summer. It actually hadn't been half bad if he recalled correctly. But things happened and they decided it isn't worth going past those short months. No hearts broken. No bullshit. And _definitely_ no pregnancy.

"I'm happy for you man," Puck says, taking another swig of his Smirnoff.

Finn raises an eyebrow skeptically.

"I'm serious man," Puck protests. "I'm all for you and Rachel doing' whatever it is that you guys do. No bullshit and no jokes. If you can handle her batshit crazy then that gets my respect."

Seeming satisfied with Puck's answer, Finn just smiles his dopey smile that he gets when he thinks about Rachel and says, "Thanks man."

Puck shrugs in response. "It's whatever."

The two boys stand in silence for a few awkward beats unsure of what else to say.

"You're not gay, right?" Finn blurts out.

"Dude, really?" Puck shakes his head. Sometimes he wonders how Finn had become his right hand man. The guy had about as much tact as that dumb coyote who was always trying to catch that road runner.

"Right," Finn says sheepishly. "Sorry. I mean, I guess that could've come out a little better, huh?"

Puck just nods, uncertain of what to do.

"I guess," Finn starts carefully. "I'm just trying to figure out if I should get used to you kissing Blaine or if this is just a one-time deal. Not that there's anything wrong with Blaine, I just never thought you'd be… You know."

"Well when I figure it out, I'll let you know," Puck says, the words tumbling out before he has a chance to catch them.

Finn seems to let the words process in his brain before giving a brief nod, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"So," Puck begins slowly as he takes another long swig of cold drink in his hand. "I'm gonna go now. That cool?"

"Yeah man," Finn tells him quickly, happy that Puck is cutting the awkward moment short. "Later."

Swiftly, Puck walks away before Finn says something else that would drag out their conversation. He needs to go find Anderson…

Ten minutes later, Puck finds himself standing in the doorway of Santana's parents' bedroom upstairs, his eyes trained on Blaine who is lying on the bed completely unaware of the other boy watching him in moonlit room. His eyes are closed and his breathing is slow, level, signaling to Puck that he is about to fall asleep at any second if he isn't already.

And in the Puckerman playbook for the evening, that's not an option.

With an arrogance that Puck has deemed himself worthy of, he takes a step forward and kicks back his foot and closes the door with a solid thud; all the while never tearing his eyes from the other boy. Puck's lips twist up into a smirk as he notices Blaine completely still on the bed now that he is alert to the presence of someone else in the room.

"Puck?"

The way Blaine says his name makes Puck think that it hasn't sounded that good coming out of someone else's mouth in a long time.

Too long.

And suddenly Puck is craving that mouth to be on him. Puck wants the wet heat to press against his lips and drag him under the current. He wants to drown in the warmth that Blaine's body seems to constantly maintain and he's pretty damn sure he can feel it from his side of the room.

His head woozy from alcohol, Puck makes a decision.

He has to.

It's not like he ever stood a chance anyway.

He isn't exactly sure how Blaine managed to get under his skin or when he'd started to give a fuck, yet here he is. He's in a bedroom with another guy ready to do something beyond borderline gay and the thought terrifies him just as much as it excites him. But it's not because Puck is suddenly keen on going down on another. It's just _Blaine_. Somewhere between discovering a slushy covered dweeb in rich kid threads and the alcohol tinged kiss from earlier in the night, Puck had discovered something he'd never been able to pinpoint since he'd met Blaine. And Puck is _nowhere_ near ready to figure what that means for them, _him_, in the morning. He just wants Blaine and he wants him _now_.

"You're really drunk, right?" Puck asks as he takes off his shirt in one motion and toes off his sneakers.

Blaine hums a timid _mhmm_in response from his spot on the bed, obviously unaware of how little clothing Puck is wearing at the moment. That's not a problem though. Puck plans to fix that very quickly.

_"Good."_

And that's the last thing Blaine hears the other boy say before Puck unceremoniously yanks him off the bed and into his arms. Blaine isn't exactly sure why his hands are resting against the bare chest he is pressed against instead of pushing the other boy off of him or why he feels like Puck's arms shouldn't fit around him _this _well. Maybe it's because Puck is so warm. Or maybe it's because he can still see Kurt and Dave's hands intertwined in his mind. Or maybe he's just tired of being alone. Either way, Blaine stays where he is longer than he should, letting his fingers patter an echo to the beat pulsing against them. By the time, he finally pushes away from Puck, he is already craving more.

"I-I have to go," Blaine stammers out, drunkenly making his way to the door with the little strength of resistance he has in him.

With his hand resting on the door knob, Blaine freezes when he hears Puck's voice say, "Wait!" And then, with a firm hand grabbing him by the waist and turning him around, he hears Puck seductively whisper against the shell of his ear, "Isn't this what you want?"

Blaine can practically feel the heat rolling off of Puck in waves despite the fact that it is fairly cool inside the bedroom. Puck's hand moves to the small of Blaine's back, holding him firmly against the football player's muscular frame, and the other is at the base of Blaine's neck, a thumb skimming over the length of his bare throat. If he was smart, Blaine would try to run or push the other boy away. He knows what kind of guy Puck is and that is the last type of person he needs to be getting mixed up with. Except, Blaine feels like his whole body is on fire and he finds it difficult to breathe – let alone think straight. Between the heat of Puck's breath against the side of his face and the racing of his heart, he can't bring himself to pull away.

"Puck, I can't do this," Blaine says softly, his voice shaky with uncertainty. "You're not even gay."

"So?" Puck challenges as if that detail were inconsequential. "Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop."

Blaine begins to shake his head. "I… I've never…"

"You've never what?"

Instead of answering, Blaine chooses silence.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Puck pulls back just enough to look into Blaine's eyes and the fire Puck sees reflected in the smaller boy's own liquid brown eyes forces him to gulp. Keeping eye contact with Blaine, Puck pushes his leg between the smaller boy's thighs and lifts him up so that Blaine was forced to spread his legs and hook them around the back of Puck's own thighs to keep his balance. Puck presses the two of them more firmly against the door, his tongue now working wonders as it paints line after line of fire along Blaine's collarbone and neck. Puck's obvious arousal strains against the confines of his jeans, thrusting ever so subtly against Blaine's ass and, despite himself, Blaine shivers at the feel of it.

Puck presses his lips close to Blaine's ear again, saying, "And just think Anderson, I haven't even _begun_to touch you yet."

Blaine grasps at the Puck's shoulders and trembled against him, his head spinning.

"Anderson?" Puck pulls back and gives him a questioning look. It's obvious where he wants this to go and the alcohol flowing through Blaine is making him more than willing to let the other boy lead the way, but he wants Blaine to be sure.

"Shut up," Blaine says, grabbing Puck's face in his hands. "Just shut up."

Before Puck can say another word, Blaine crashes his lips against Puck's, sliding down so that his feet touch the floor, and begins flicking his tongue in a way that begs Puck to open his mouth; which he does. Instantly, Blaine licks at Puck's bottom lip seductively before he bites it hard enough to elicit a moan from the taller boy. Not breaking the kiss, Puck spins them around so that Blaine's back is to the bed and begins forcing him to walk backwards towards the mattress. Blaine clumsily kicks off his shoes and Puck, who is already unbuckling his own jeans, helps him take off his shirt in one movement.

The two boys fall on the bed in an awkward tangle of an embrace, Puck grinding his erection against the unforgiving denim constraining Blaine's own throbbing member. Their lips are working against each other in a desperate way that is almost bruising and the way that Puck's grip on Blaine's hip forces them to connect is making Blaine wonder why he'd even tried to say no in the first place. His hands run over the toned muscles of Puck's bare back, going lower and lower and lower still, until he is grabbing firmly onto Puck's ass and is forcing the other boy to press harder into him, Blaine's legs parting as he lets Puck settle between them.

"Tell me how much you want this," Puck demands, his rough baritone caressing Blaine's ear with a flick of his tongue.

But Blaine can't respond; not with Puck's hand traveling slowly down the expanse of his torso towards his too tight jeans. And there's _no way in hell_he can make a coherent sentence when Puck starts to undo his jeans button by button – each pop being accentuated with Puck's voice.

"Just."

_Pop._

"Say."

_Pop._

"It."

_Pop._ _  
_  
"Puck," Blaine says breathlessly, his hips thrusting up into Puck's hand of their own accord. "_Please_."

Blaine can almost feel the smirk of Puck's lips as he removes his hand and presses burning kisses down Blaine's chest, stopping right at the edge of Blaine's boxers. And then Blaine's hands grasp at the sheets beneath him because he can feel Puck's teeth grazing the bare skin of his lower abdomen before taking the boxers into his mouth and the jeans in his hands and then begin to pull them both down - slowly, achingly.

As soon as Blaine's dick is free of constraint and he realizes how completely naked he is in this moment, in more ways than one, Blaine knows he has a decision to make. It's either stop this now or keep on going with the possibility of regret later on. As he opens his eyes and watches Puck's mouth hover over his cock, the mohawked boy giving him a look that is clearly saying, _This is your last chance to back out_, Blaine knows what decision he has to make. He is more certain about his choice than he has been about anything else. And he knows that he will probably burn into ashes because of it.

"I want this."

_**TBC...**_

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you guys liked it. I'm currently at work on the next couple of chapters. I'll update when I have a few under my belt so that way the updates can come at a steady rate unlike now. Lol. Just as an fyi, there were a lot of plot lines set up in this one chapter and a lot of them may not be as obvious at others. So if you guys want to point them out to me just for fun and see if you're on the right track, feel free to do so. Btw, reviews are love!


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